What would you have me do, dear Lord,
What would you have me do,
With the years I’ve left and the strength I have,
What would you have me to do.
What would you have me say, dear God,
What would you have me say,
With the words I have and the time to come
What would you have me to say.
You’re asking me, as if I choose ,
what I would have you do,
This game’s your deal, you win you lose,
I leave it all up to you.
But what’s the point in that, dear Lord,
That sucks, I need a plan,
A compass to steer by, a lifeboat, a captain,
A god, can’t depend on mere man.
I need a someone, a star in the sky,
A token, a ruddy big tome,
I need the wisdom, that fell through the ages,
To study and lead me to home.
Tough luck, my dear child, I came and I went,
I tried and I left it at that,
Why not do the same with the best that you’ve got,
I’m no magician with a bloody big hat.
Get off you arse and give it a go,
Just do it, anyone can,
I’m no man of mystery, just gave it my best,
Miracles happen with plans.
Hmm, that sounds like work, like labour, you know
That stuff where mothers give birth,
Painful and long and messy and crap,
Are you sure that’s the best that you have.
And what did you get with that pushing and shoving
And what led you there to that joint,
Some pleasure, some pain and a whole lot to gain,
I call that a plan with a point.
So children and life and loving and stuff,
Some sex to give it a thrill,
Keep the pot boiling and never give up,
Do it with the best of my will.
I think you’re at it, are you laughing at us,
Chuckling at our frantic antics
Tell me the truth (I’ll keep it a secret)
Are you up to some of your tricks.
Well, what if I am, it’s boring up here,
I liked it best when on earth,
Wind up the natives, get them all riled
Some tricks and a bloody good laugh.
It could be so good, I tried to make it that way,
Then father called me on home,
Curfew, you know, out after time,
And time’s his, wherever we roam.
Why not just try it, I found it the best
Hanging with family and friends,
Speaking on up whenever I could.
Quite frankly, I found it no test.
Loving and living and fairness and shit
Some wine – I’m a dab hand at homebrew –
Stop fretting, stop fearing, am I really here,
You’ll soon find out if I’m true.
Are you threatening me ‘cos my birthday is near,
You think that I’m getting old,
Well, I’ve got news for you,
I do what I can and I do it without being told.
I’m on it and at it, all over this place,
Viral, I’m like a rash,
Up every morning and raring to go,
Just concerned I might make a hash.
Quit it, I’m tired, I’ve been up every night,
Stopping you clowns from your worst,
Have you any idea what it’s like to be here,
An infirmary, I’m doctor and nurse.
I need a hand and you’ve got two hands
And the stuff that’s grown as you’ve grown,
Just do your thing, that’s all that I did,
You have a mind of your own.
Oops, my bad, I thought you were free,
Plenty of time where you live,
Just give me enough and I’ll do my bit
And, if I fluff it, I hope you’ll forgive.
Over and out, do you say that up there,
Are you really asking to know,
Or just being facetious, I know you, you know.
Okay god, bye, got to go.
With apologies to anyone without a religious funny bone. Me and god have this thing going. (Yeah, god and I). He gets to confound me, I get to dig him up for it. He gets to tell me to get on with it because what difference does it make if he’s there or not. And I get to dig him up for it again. Then I just get on with it.
He gets to show me this amazing world. I get to show him pictures of my weans. He’s on Facebook, you know. Strange username. Hard to spell.
He gets to tell me to stop fannying around and I get to tell him to make life easier. We have a laugh. Mostly him, I think. We’re best buds, most days. Some days, though, I give him what’s for. Then he gives me it back. He’s like that, you know. Give a little, take a little.
Mostly, he’s like an aura. Like a mist that spans time and space and every notion we can conceive.
He gets to smile and love me. I’m quite lovable. Mainly. ‘cept when I’m in a bad mood. Then I’m a witch. Ask anyone. He quite likes witches too. Told me. Tells me a lot. Not the winning lottery ticket, right enough. Not sure why that is. I’d give most of it away.
Kinda seems to want me to just have sex and weans. I’m good with most of that. Have you seen my crew? Weans are great. So’s sex. Bang goes the winning lottery ticket.
Yeah, so, me and god. God and I. Whatev’s. Apparently, I’ve just got to get on with it. Does he tell you that too? Hope your sex life is good. Either that or you’ve won the lottery. I’ll keep the sex and weans. And just get on with it.